Assumes Poems

Cultivating love

“This Holy Sound (Aum) Pranava Sabda manifests spontaneously through culture of Sraddha, the energetic tendency of the heart's natural love; Virya, moral courage; Smriti, true conception; and Samadhi, true concentration.”
~ extract from ‘The Holy Science’


Love dissolve all opposites in its womb
and where true love is, there exists no thought,
so as maverick ego we deplume,
heart animated, we become self-taught.

Courage, conception and concentration,
arise on their own when heart lotus blooms,
that thus feeling one with God’s creation,
we see we are more than our mind assumes.

Embracing all souls and keeping no score, 
shifting to feeling and ceasing thinking,
fragrance of love surges forth from our core,
whence we attain awareness unblinking.

Love is the path that is strewn with roses,
where breath by breath we strike blissful poses.

Historical Paint in Town

Exploration!
Confound?
In your exit!
Out myself?
"While Lancaster assumes the role"
News and filming
My first conviction times, bold.
Losing renewal values
Abundantcy people on a crime
I'm sure of that much
When I'm in the business transaction, okay and your going?
Off the call.
It ends in you called yourself back, I'm fine.

Freedom from film in French
Just getting to france takes hello's!

Ahoy!

French Prisoners

Kevin and the Irish actress stay put

Get Lara's the news

Lara's in the system, finally.

Check!

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Juliet Society

Marriage is Blind

Love Is Fireworks
A riot of color that screams across the sky,
visible from heaven but never held.
It pricks your eye, burns your sight,
etches the face into your retina like a divine warning:
"You will never see them like this again".
It's not poison, just an overdose.

Then marriage goes blind
To the spark you still carry.
It sees the chores, not the devotion.
It praises the schedule, not the soul.
It forgets the spark that seared your eye
and calls the ash commitment.
Marriage doesn’t ask what you feel, it assumes.
It doesn’t look, it remembers.
And memory is a poor prosthetic for vision.

Loved but still unseen
And that is the blackout
no firework could ever warn you about.

Gotcha!

Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise, 
the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art ! 

The juvenile lyrical mind under infantile skin,
like the sweetness of the fruit ripe already,
will have the mute desire to reach and win
with artistic heart pulsating within puerile body. 

Rising from the depth of ageless emotion,
spreading like waters of the flooding river,
love assumes a heavenly halcyon dimension
in a delightful art framed with platonic fervor.

When the yarn of yearning sews the closed eye, 
on the flapping eyelids the bird of passion flies.
The flight makes all the dreams to rise high,
float like shapeless clouds in the seamless skies.

If in the same rhythm the two hearts beat,
time arrow will stop for you, making no sense.
Past forgotten, in the present two souls will meet,
sunk in the depth of blind love without pretense.

When cupid's arrow aims for you, there isn't much that you can do !

we are not cynical

We are not cynical

She had been married once or twice and lived among 
the rich, that was what happened to air hostesses when 
there was a frisson about this job. 

Her last husband came from Amsterdam, a doyen of
the fur trade, elegantly dressed, and a walking stick
With a stick, one assumes he was quite elderly.

He had bought her a flat with many rooms, too many
one of lesser background would think, then to her 
surprise, he suddenly died

So what was a girl to do, sitting with a flat not all
paid for, sensibly, she rented out the flat to people 
Who could pay and keep the heating on come winter

Then she met her final man just as her legs were
getting tired, he would do, she thought he had a car
and doesn't bother about a high-flying life

Thus, a love story blossomed, if not a lady and a trap
Yet, a love story of a sort, he needs her to do the talking
So he can sit in his room and write

fidelity

The fidelity 

the sin of the flesh, why is it a sin
sexuality is a strong and natural desire
but often the downfall of the great
who lacks respect for lust
treats it with a low moral attitude
There are the monks of Thailand
naked feet in sandals, and one assumes
naked bodies under burgundy
robes, can so easily fall prey to when
a lady of easy virtues comes along
this could and probably has gone on
for hundreds of years, but it became
a scandal when money came along 
I understand the monks, but reserve
my contempt for the likes of Trump and
Dershowits

no explanation for any of this

no separation

not explained

not explainable

can be obvious

dissolving absent

handholds



being

not being that

not being this

but expressing

that and this



finding

what is not lost

a seeker's shock

and demise

perhaps



searching

assumes something

to find with no

expectation that

something is 

nothing

Quicksand

It's hard-
when everyone assumes
that you're okay.
When you're not-
you never have been.

You say what they want to hear,
even when it's a lie.
Because you're afraid
of what they might think.

Whatever you think that might be-
you're wrong.
Trust me.
I've been there.
And if they do think like that,
know this:
they don't deserve someone
as good as
you.

Every time you repeat that phrase-
I'm okay,
you sink deeper
and deeper
and deeper,
until you're stuck
in the quicksand.

Eventually,
your head will go under.
And all hope seems to have disappeared.
forever.

But then comes a hand,
pulling you out of your quicksand.
Struggling,
but never
letting go.

Then there are more.
So many hands.
They crowd around you, searching for a grip,
and lift
until
you begin
to rise.
Up.

Waves of the Moon

"Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life." ~ Pablo Neruda

I sail through citrine waves of the moon’s pulse,
weaving my spark from sea-stars
numb to the blaze of a dream-lashed gaze ~
      mute to the masked mist of ghosts,
as somehow between the seraphic sighs
of rising Luna and the aching sun,
there I found my muse crawling and cradling~ 
clouds of love bathed in luminous lavender…

So tonight, must I heed black-magic mantras,
spelled in neon gold by lips that lie,
or shall I wade through caramelized clarity,
for I’ve long homed hues of blooming twilight,
brushing the wistful heart of waning dusk,
drowning fiery flares within vain veins,
while the wind assumes I’ll touch no sand,
          anchored by timeless traces of poetry...

No truth stands out omnipotent

Almighty, his Majesty, the lord
I am not sure if you are present and listening
Many masses prayed from morning to evening 
For your guidance, protection, and support

I, today, declared that no creeds stand out
As omnipotent as a condition of your being 
People must acknowledge what they are doing
To rely on understanding and skills that they got

All these are now named skills or wisdom
Of being as philosophy, logic, such as causality
As a fact that nothing could come from vacuum
 
Nay, none of them against stand logic, obviously
No truths stand out without subjective assumes 
Simply akin to butterflies born in the chrysalis

Genesis of delusion

All dreams are unreal and yet they appear,
wherein ego assumes a specific role,
so knowing this, no object to us is dear,
save God’s boundless love and light, which we extol.
In deep sleep each night, we return to our home,
a singularity, where throbs the gong Om
but on waking up in this domain dual,
delusion grips us, unless love’s our fuel.

Who am I

this
here now 
our formless awareness
eternal screen of consciousness 
Self

Self
as noumena
births all phenomena
duality wherein we’re immersed
form

form
decaying dust
assumes an ego
which hijacks our awareness
delusion

delusion
hypnotic trance
dreams within dreams
spurred by dark desires
suffering

suffering
of ego
which we’re not 
is noticed thus birthing
wisdom

wisdom
is recognition 
that we’re Self
made in God’s image
light

light
is barren
without agape love
which dissolves all opposites
peace

peace
in stillness 
within outer chaos
is our true orientation 
illumination

illumination
an effervescence 
ignition renewal continual
fragrance of a rose
God

Bliss energised stillness

The kundalini moves in form as She likes,
wherein we are but a humble receptor
and as in time dissolved stillness rapture spikes,
soma nectar pierces each body vector,
so there is no cause for us to look askance,
when the navel chakra assumes a bliss stance,
for node any, we have no say in this play,
of divine magnetism rising day by day.

Sermon In the Sheets

If he exists or not is not the point 
It is faith that keeps us on 
Words from pops, words of soul
So every Sunday is church day
But the preacher has me in knots 
He assumes he exists and that's the point 
My suspension of disbelief is needed most 
The narratives are wise, the stories tight 
But I met God and I don't think he is him

A comedy act

Life is one big comedy act everyone assumes their positions and dresses the part

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